


Best Interest

by KimliPan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: FrostIron - Freeform, Frostiron Bang 2013, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Iron Man 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimliPan/pseuds/KimliPan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony wakes up in the middle of the night and Loki’s still there. He has an arm wrapped around Tony’s waist, holding him tightly from behind like a child holding a bear.  It’s not the first time he thinks of Loki with such fondness; it makes him both uneasy and affectionate.  But this is just sex, he reminds himself.  He feels a pang of guilt form at the pit of his stomach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Interest

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Saskia](http://speakingfiguratively.tumblr.com/), my AMAZING artist, for making two gorgeous pieces for this fic!
> 
> Also thanks to [chaperoned](http://chaperoned.tumblr.com/) who, as always, let me rope her into beta-ing at least a little bit.

1.

Tony reaches for the coffee blind.  His eyes drag from the stats on screen to the clock on the wall instead of the task in front of him.  His hand misses the cup while he stares at the numbers, un-seeing.  When he turns back to his monitor, he checks the time on there instead: 9:01.

The muscles around his eyes ache, and his shoulders are stiff - he feels like the living dead.

His hand finally collides with the mug, the clumsy movement sends it sliding an inch or so with just enough momentum to make the cold coffee splash onto his fingers.  Tony sighs and licks it off before grabbing it and walking over to the coffee pot to brew his third batch.

This small break from his work reminds him to feel guilty.  He still doesn’t, though, and that’s the most surprising part.  Wasn’t sex with the enemy supposed to feel dangerous?  At least dark, maybe even a little dirty?  The normalcy of it disturbed Tony more than the act itself.

The memory makes him smile, and he forces his eyes back open once he realizes they’re closed.  Whatever it was that happened between them, however it felt, it’s over and Tony plans on making himself forget about it.

The lab door opens and Pepper walks in, her cell phone tight in her hand when she comes at Tony in a sort of relieved panic (exaggerated sigh; tight-knit brows).  “Thank _God_ ,” she breathes as she approaches him, eyes on the brew. “Jarvis informed me you had a Visitor of Mischief in your-” Tony makes a face.  She takes in an indignant breath and the hand with the phone draws to her chest.

“Oh god, Tony, _no!_   Tell me you didn’t.”  He responds with a tired half-smile, an attempt to veil his guilty conscience and make a show of it at the same time.  Pepper shakes her head, takes it as a taunt.  Good.

“This isn’t funny!” she says, pushing his arm.  “I need to hear it’s not _true_.”

“Coffee, Pep?” he offers, grabbing a fresh mug from the overhead cabinet.  He dumps the old coffee from his own mug down the drain, then reaches under the counter for a bottle of golden, well-aged whiskey.  “You seem a little stressed.  Take an edge off.”

“Oh, Tony, it’s nine o’clock in the _morning,_ ” she says in a tired, dragging voice as she grabs the bottle from Tony’s hand to cap it.  She leans in to smell his breath and wrinkles her nose, waving the smell away with her hand.  “What on earth happened?”

At the same time he opens his mouth to tell her she doesn’t want to know, she raises her hands in defeat. 

“Nevermind,” she rushes out.  “I don’t want to hear about it. Your sexcapades have never interested me much.”  And then, “Where is he now? Do you realize what kind of security threat this is?  What am I supposed to _tell_ people?”

“I can handle it,” he assures her, though he isn’t quite sure himself. 

 

2.

“Good morning, Sir.”

Jarvis.

Tony groans, pulls himself up.  “ _What,_ ” he demands, his voice rough and his lower abs sore.  He brings a hand to his stomach, leans over it.  His other hand meanwhile goes to his head and sinks into his hair.

“I believe you have a function in an hour, Sir.  Miss Potts asked me to see to it you’re awake in time to go.”

He sighs, licks his lips, and when he stands he’s very naked.  The muscles in his butt and thighs ache.  Flashes of moments come to him: Loki bent over the edge of the bed, Tony sitting upright on Loki’s dick, a genius on his knees and a God in the throes.  He brings both hands back behind to rest on his top of his ass and rolls his shoulders back to crack his joints into place. 

“Sir, if I may.  It would also be in your best interest to cover up the bruise on the side of your neck.”

He stands still a moment, his sore, naked body that smells of sweat and sex fully exposed to the whole room, and he smiles to himself.  “Noted, Jarvis,” he says as he walks flat-footed toward the bathroom, his groggy, tired feet slapping against the cool tile floor.  “Thanks for that.”

“Of course, Sir.”

 

3.

It never takes Tony long to adjust to the exceptional.  Loki hardly waits a full day before coming back to the penthouse, lips tight in a wide grin that Tony thinks makes him look like a scheming ten-year-old.  Tony loves the attention more than he worries for his safety or his windows.

He gives Loki his number before he goes, snatches it from Loki’s very pockets to program himself in as Man of Iron before Loki seizes it back.

When Tony wakes up in the morning, it’s without a hangover, and he smiles to himself without needing aching muscles to serve as a reminder of the fun from the night before. 

 

4.

The first time Loki lingers a while, Tony wouldn’t exactly call it cuddling. Or -- well, maybe he would.  He wonders if Loki would disagree, but the way he sees it, just barely rolling off of him to lay a head on his shoulder and rest a hand on his stomach, that’s pretty darn close. Tony falls asleep on his back like that, body covered in sweat and cum and his arm falling asleep under the weight of Loki’s head, but when he wakes up he’s on his stomach, completely alone.

He reaches for his phone on the side table, curious. Loki hasn’t messaged him, and he doesn’t for the rest of the day.

 

5.

Tony wakes up in the middle of the night and Loki’s still there. He has an arm wrapped around Tony’s waist, holding him tightly from behind like a child holding a bear.  It’s not the first time he thinks of Loki with such fondness; it makes him both uneasy and affectionate.

But this is just sex, he reminds himself.  He feels a pang of guilt form at the pit of his stomach. 

This is a betrayal of sorts, to his friends and to his team, he thinks.  Loki’s arm is comforting and his naked body is warm, present -- but for just sex, he puts an awful lot on the line.  Security, friendship, trust...

He slips out of Loki’s grip, starts getting dressed.  In jeans, a sleeveless top, and barefoot, he walks for the door.

“Stark?”

Loki’s voice is quiet, tired.  Tony hears the irritation in it, too.  More than that, there’s an attempt at temptation: _What are you doing up._   _Come back to bed._ He frowns and glances back toward Loki with his hand on the doorknob.

Loki’s irritated tempting doesn’t lead him back to bed.  He goes out to his labs, and when he returns after the curtains are drawn and the sunlight pours in, his bed is empty.

 

6.

Loki falls asleep.  For all his pomp and ceremony, he’s not very dignified about it; he lies on his back with arms and legs sprawled out, jaw slack and, though he doesn’t snore, he does threaten to drool.  Tony gives a put-upon smile and tries to navigate Loki’s limbs just so he can stay in his own bed, but he gives pause to look on.  The wrinkles round his eyes have smoothed, his skin is sallow and loose.  While he definitely doesn’t look innocent, neither does he look particularly dangerous.  It’s strange, he thinks.  Disarming.  If Loki was truly trying to trick him and lure him unawares, sleeping like a teenage boy who’d never shared a bed was definitely the way.

He chuckles.  Maybe that’s the half-sleep talking.  Maybe it’s not.  Maybe it doesn’t matter.  Tony doesn’t care to dwell, really.  He’s already told himself, this is just sex, same to him as it is for Loki; he prides himself in being able to read people, and as far as he can tell as long as they’re in the bedroom, there’s a mutual truce between them.

He just tries to get under the covers properly when Loki wakes, looks alarmed.  He glances at Tony with narrowed eyes and disappears.  The teleportation thing is getting annoying, he thinks as he rolls his eyes, but at least he can stretch out.

 

7.

“You _can_ stay, you know,” Tony tells him, laying on his stomach, shamelessly naked with half of his body draped spent over Loki’s.

“Of course I can,” Loki snaps -- no, banters -- as he rolls Tony onto his back.  “You think you could stop me?”  Tony likes this back and forth of dominance between them; sometimes Loki lets Tony push him around, but Tony likes it best when Loki’s giving him the attention.

Loki lies half on top of Tony before pulls back, props his head up on his elbow and draws circles over the hollow of Tony’s chest with the buds of his fingers.  “Where is it?” he asks, tapping the center.

Tony shrugs.  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, his innocent smirk hardly even trying to sway him.  He attempts to sit up but Loki’s hand pushes him flush against the bed.  He raises a brow. 

“I thought I might see it,” he confesses, and he dips down to press his lips against the scar.  Tony’s groin twitches, but he tries to distract the conversation instead by asking Loki,

“Why don’t you stay?”

Loki vanishes.

Tony hates that trick.

 

8.

Loki is there when Tony falls asleep -- he remembers Loki’s long limbs blanketing his body, the sheets in knots around their legs and nothing up over their waists.  He wakes three times that night, the first to roll over and realizes he can’t, the second time to pee, but on the third time he’s alone.  It’s not a big deal, he thinks.  It’s not like Loki won’t come back.  And it’s just sex anyway, he reminds himself.  Morning-afters are for relationships, they are what he used to do with Pepper.  This, with Loki?  It’s still just sex.

He sits up, blankets dropping off his chest, and he leans back on his hands when he asks Jarvis what time it is.

With an exaggerated groan, he flops back on the bed and drums his fingers against his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling trying not to think.  He never was one for men -- so what about Loki made that different?  Not that he hadn’t dallied in the same gender, but women were his preference and Loki most definitely was no lady.  _What am I doing_ , he wondered, and he asked himself vaguely with no real commitment who he could talk to about it.

Whatever the case, he tells himself he’s relieved for the morning alone or else he might feel like this thing was some kind of relationship -- not like boyfriends, he thinks quickly, which makes him imagine taking Loki on his arm to some Stark Industries affair: a gallery opening, a gala, maybe a publicized late-dinner affair.  _Right, Christina, whatever. This is Loki. You remember him, right? Battle of New York? Sure he’d love to talk to you about accountability._

In this scenario, Loki forces a polite smile, enough so that it would pass as rude to treat him coldly, but false enough to make a pleasant exchange uncomfortable and awkward.  Tony loves it.  It’s exactly what he would do, were he not so openly rude already, and he sees himself and Loki working together to be as inaccessible as possible to the rest of the press or celebrity hunters and ass kissers.

It’s a good thing it’s just sex, he reminds himself, or else Pepper would kill both of them.

He finally forces himself up when the door to his room opens. Loki strolls in carrying two coffees wearing an oversized Stark Industries T-shirt and little else.  Tony reaches out to take one with a raised brow and an open smirk, as if he’d been expecting nothing else than Loki’s petty servitude.

“Hair looks great,” he says with a wink.  Loki gives a wry smile and moves to the other side of the bed, takes a seat with his own coffee.

“Yes, it’s a good look for you.”  And Tony has to laugh, it’s a fair retort. 

 

9.

The pale blue glow of the clock on the nightstand outlines Loki’s muscles.  Tony hasn’t thought about it before, but with the only light in the room highlighting every dip and crevasse, Tony can actually see that Loki is not exactly _lean_.

It’s easy to discredit.  Compared to Thor, Loki is lithe, little -- the sneaky intelligent one, not the brawn.  Not that he thinks little of Loki’s strength, but he attributes it to his heritage more than his actual muscle.  The chance to observe it turns him on.

He pushes himself up and straddles Loki, resting his weight on his hands over Loki’s chest.  Loki squeezes his eyes together before he opens them, squinting. 

“What are you doing, Stark?” he asks suspiciously.

“Sorry, does this _bother_ you?”

“You don’t have to make it to morning if you don’t wish.”

Tony laughs.  “Better be careful, I like it when you threaten me.” He sits back on Loki’s groin, looks down at his abs.  “You’re stronger than you look,” he says as his hands, rough and careless, run along the lines outlined by the glow of the clock.

Loki gives Tony a flat expression.  He reaches up, too fast for Tony to react, and wraps a hand tightly around Tony’s throat. It holds tight enough to threaten him, maybe spook him even, but not enough to choke him.  Tony presses himself further into his hand and gives a half-quirk of his lips. 

Loki throws Tony off the bed, onto the floor, and when Tony pulls himself up again, Loki’s gone.

 

10. 

Tony takes in a sharp breath; his eyes snap open.  He doesn’t have nightmares as often anymore, and when he does, he usually can’t remember them.  At least it’s morning this time.

He lays pressed against Loki’s side with an arm over his stomach and his head on his chest.  Loki has an arm around Tony’s shoulder, and the hand that rests on his upper arm grips him tightly, almost bruisingly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tony says.  Loki’s grip doesn’t lax.  He stares up at the ceiling, lips pursed in a tight frown.  Tony draws his arm back a little, gives Loki a small pat on his stomach with his fingers.  “You alright there?” he asks.  Loki brings his eyes down to Tony, and Tony gestures his head back toward his shoulder.  “Kinda hurting my arm, if you could just loosen that kung-fu grip there...”

Loki does, though not without rolling his eyes, and Tony rolls onto his back, heart still pounding from the nightmare he can’t quite remember.  Flashes come to him.  Giant monsters, Stark Tower crumbling... Pepper screams.  He closes his eyes a moment, and when he does, he just sees Loki staring up at the ceiling again.  He opens them when Loki’s hand slips down Tony’s stomach, in between his legs.  He should push it away, he thinks, but he doesn’t.  He likes it when Loki does what he wants, and he likes it even more when Loki wants him.

“I gotta get up.”  He volunteers the information without much conviction.  Loki doesn’t stop and Tony doesn’t try again, and when he cums they kiss.

 

11.

If it weren’t for the God of Mischief, Tony would still be asleep.  Instead, he wakes up from the tickling feeling of little tiny creature-legs crawling all over him.  He opens his eyes to see his body covered in spiders.  He closes them again, breathing slowed by an attempt at control, and tells Loki, “If that’s not magic, I swear to god we’re done.”

Loki gives a chuckle from over him on the bed and the feeling stops.  It gets replaced by Loki’s weight via hands on his chest as he climbs onto him, straddles his hips.  “Where is it?” he asks again, his fingers twirling in a circle where the arc reactor used to be.  Tony’s body tenses, an old habit he hasn’t had reason to break yet.

“Why?” Tony asks petulantly; he gives Loki a challenging look and a raised brow.  “You wanna rip it out?”  Loki’s hand moves to his throat again, slower this time.  The hand rests gently yet menacingly at his open throat, thumb caressing the side with an almost loving grace.

“I could rip this out instead,” he says in a silky whisper.  “If I wanted.”  An afterthought.  Tony’s groin twitches -- Loki’s threats always manage to give him a bit of a thrill.

“Got rid of it,” is all he says.  He brings a hand up to rest on Loki’s still over his chest.  “Tell you more about it if you tell me about that scar on your side.”  Loki tightens the grip on his throat; Tony leans his head back against the pillow. 

But all at once, he stops and rolls off of Tony and lays down next to him.  Without much in the way of a breath, Tony gets up and starts getting dressed.

“Why must you always ruin things, Stark?” Loki asks, already sprawled out, taking up Tony’s space.  “Come back to bed.” 

“Got things to do, _darling,_ ” he says as he pulls his jeans on, no underwear.  “Be back tonight?”

Loki sighs, turns his head away.  “If I must,” he murmurs.  He overspends the time and effort it takes to get out of bed when he pulls himself up and makes for his armor on the other side of the room. 

“Sir,” Jarvis cuts in.  Tony stops and glances to Loki, curious on his thoughts about Jarvis and most of the tech in his home.  He doesn’t ask, just waits for a show or reaction.  “The bruise on the side of your neck.  Do cover it up. Showing it off may not be in your best interest.”

Loki smirks.  Tony hopes he likes him.

 

12.

Tony wakes up with a heaving chest and heavy breath.  Loki has a hand around his cock.

“That’s one way to wake a guy up,” he whispers, and he laughs at himself, pushes his head back to enjoy.

“You make better noises in your sleep,” Loki says.  He finishes him without much grace, but Tony doesn’t mind -- not until Loki gets out of bed and starts putting his clothes on.

“Where you going?” he asks, his throat still thick with sleep.  “Get your ass back here.”

“You’re not the only one with things to do, Stark,” is all Loki says.  He turns back, gives Tony a smile that makes him nervous, and leaves through the bedroom door.

 

13.

Loki sleeps on his stomach, an arm splayed out over Tony’s chest.  He’s gotten used to the amount of space Loki takes up, even finds it endearing.  That in itself bothers Tony as he lays on his back, looks up at the ceiling.  He finds the things Loki does _endearing._ He wonders what exactly Thor and his family had done to him to make Loki so _obsessed_ with proving himself -- Tony knows first hand how deep one can get in those thirsts.

But it’s not like Loki hasn’t taken it and twisted it into something dark.  Maybe he’s lying to himself when he thinks that Loki’s gotten over that need for exaggerated power, to rule people and kill the ones in his way.  Either way, things got pretty quiet on the villain front lately, ever since they started sleeping together.

A hand idly moves to touch Loki’s hand resting on his chest. 

If this is all Loki needed, why has it taken him so long to get it?  Or is he just playing a longer game?

Tony thinks it’s a simple matter of human contact.  After his time in Afghanistan, he pulled himself in, grew very lonely.  It was only then that he really saw Pepper.  And it’s only now, after he and Pepper are apart, that he really sees Loki.

When he tells himself it’s just sex, he feels a dull throbbing in his chest, but that is all it is.  Loki shows up and they lay down; come morning, it’s over and the cycle starts again.  There are no phone calls, no dates, no lazy movie marathons or need for casual company.

Loki taps his fingers against Tony’s stomach and he looks down to see Loki staring. 

“Don’t look so depressed,” he tells him irritably.  Tony smiles.  “I don’t come to you for drama.”

“No?”  Loki rests his chin on Tony’s chest, frowns at him.  “You don’t think that’s what you’re gonna get when Sparky catches on?”

Loki’s face switches from a mildly amused eagerness to an irritated frown.  “What _Sparky_ thinks when he _catches on_ doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice flat.  Tony lifts a hand and runs his fingers through Loki’s messy bedhead.

“Right, ‘cause he’s not your brother.  That it?”

Loki’s hand slides to where the arc reactor used to be.  He digs his nails in, sharp, though he doesn’t drag them down the scar.  “You wish for drama?” he asks pointedly.  “It does not matter what Thor thinks of us because there is nothing to think on.”  He pushes himself up, looms over Tony.

“Isn’t there?”

Loki vanishes.

Tony sighs and rolls onto his side.  He forces himself back to sleep.

 

14. 

Loki is still sweaty when Tony rolls over to look at him.  He lays on his side this time, curled inward around himself like a child clutching a blanket.  It’s the perfect opportunity, he thinks, and he slides up against Loki’s back, wraps an arm around his side.

It’s been a while since he’s been the big spoon.

Loki’s form seems to melt underneath him.  The arms he clutches to his chest relax and his knees slide down.  He’s less of a hook now, Tony thinks.  More of a... of a what?  A lover?  He smiles at the thought, reaches lower, slides his fingers along the shallows of Loki’s thighs, or what he can reach of them.  Loki lets a small breath out in his sleep -- that must have been what Loki meant, he thinks, because the noise is weak, innocent, and even _charming_.  He goes further, wraps his fingers around his dick, plans to play with Loki as Loki played with him.

It ends there, though. 

Loki rolls over, pushes Tony away.  He eyes narrow, threatening even lined by sleep as they are.  Tony stares at him for a moment wondering if Loki is going to say anything before the threat melts away into a warmer smile -- the kind of smile Tony wanted him to give that reporter when they met.  Tony frowns.

“What, out of bounds?” he asks irritably.

“What would you know of boundaries, Stark?” Loki asks lovingly, and Tony rolls his eyes.  He doesn’t feel like putting up with it, so he rolls over, closes his eyes. 

The bed shifts as Loki vanishes, and he wakes up later alone.

 

15.

Not that he counts the nights spent alone, but Tony wakes up for the third morning in a row with a hardon and no relief.  It’s been a while since Loki left him alone for this long, and he wonders how long it’ll be before the next visit. 

This is a good thing, he tells himself.  Keeping Loki in his life was probably not so hot a plan as he would have liked to think.  After all, those receptions and galas and dinner parties with Loki on his arm?  Would have been fun, but ultimately hurtful.

He gets up, walks to the kitchen to make some coffee, and Pepper’s already there.  She looks at him and frowns, grabs a second mug from the cabinet.

“You look like hell,” she says, and Tony gives her a nod of thanks.

“You sure know how to sweet talk a guy,” he says.  She pours him a coffee, hands him the mug.

“How long’s it been?” she asks.

“What?”  Tony takes the mug, spins it in his hands.  “Since I had a whiskey? Too long, please.”  He holds the mug out for her to take back, but she turns away from him and pours coffee into her own cup.  Tony brings it back to himself and sips it.

Pepper turns around and leans back against the counter, raises an expectant brow.  “You know what I mean,” she says, and he nods.

“Three days.”  Then, “Four, technically. If you count today.”

“I don’t like it,” Pepper says.

“Of course you don’t like it.”

“But, maybe...”

Tony lifts his head.  “Maybe what?” he asks, amused at even the slightest chance of fake approval from Pepper.  She shrugs, and he shrugs back.  “You actually love it.  That it?  You want me to take him back.”

Pepper rolls her eyes.  “I’m just saying, you keep him out of trouble,” she says in a defensive, drawn out tone.  “And you’ve got that stupid little strut you had when--” She gestures between herself and Tony.

Tony raises his brows, purses his lips a little.  Pepper steps back and takes her coffee with her.  “If you have something you need to apologize for, bad blood between you two is gonna be worse than anything I can imagine in--” She gestures vaguely toward Tony’s bedroom.  “Make it right.”  She pauses, looks a little sad.  “It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

 

16.

On the fifth night, Tony wakes up when the door to his bedroom opens and Loki, hardly shy about the noise he’s making, begins to strip himself of his armor.  Tony rolls over and watches him.

“If you’re offering a strip tease, you might wanna slow it down,” he says, sleep still thick in his voice.  Loki gives him a look that tells him to shut up, but he keeps going:  “Could get Jarvis to play some music, if you want.  A little Marvin Gaye.   _Let’s get it on..._ ” He sings the last line, and Loki is unimpressed.

“Do you ever tire of your own voice?” Loki asks as he climbs into the bed naked.

Tony laughs and pulls the blanket back for Loki to slip in.  “Would you believe me if I told you I actually do?” he asks.  Loki wraps an arm around him; his palm is cold and clammy, and Tony jumps when it brushes his side.  “Jesus, what’ve you been up to?” he asks, taking to opportunity to press his body against Loki’s.  To warm it, he tells himself.  Not because he misses it.

Loki doesn’t answer, though.  He just wraps his long arms around Tony, holds him in close.  They fall asleep like this, and Loki is gone when Tony wakes up.

 

17.

They both lay awake on Tony’s bed for a while on their backs, eyes up on the ceiling.  Loki started speaking some five minutes back, he stopped himself mid-sentence.  Tony stays silent now, doesn’t want to interrupt the thought or send him off in some kind of fit. 

The bed shifts as Loki rolls onto his side and props his weight against his elbow to look down at Tony.  Tony’s eyes slide over to meet his, but Loki isn’t looking right at him.  Loki’s eyes are on the pillow above his head, his jaw, down closer toward their feet.

“Hey.”  Tony points at his eyes.  “I’m up here, buddy.” 

Loki isn’t amused; he doesn’t react at all, except to finally make eye contact, his frown deep-set.  “The problem is-”

“Problem?” Tony interjects.

“The _problem is_ ,” Loki begins again, “that I’ve grown to enjoy your company.”  He presses his lips tight, as if the confession were something moving.  Tony realizes that it’s not just sex for Loki either anymore; his own lips twitch in relief, and he reaches up to put a hand on Loki’s chest.

Not his face, he makes that decision consciously himself consciously.  He doesn’t want to make this _tender_ , or to send Loki off.  He just wants to feel right by it, and for that, any contact is enough really.

Though Tony never operates on _enough_.  He sits up, pushes Loki onto his back.  Loki complies, and his eyes dart round Tony’s face, clearly annoyed.  “I can see the problem there,” he says.  “Not too many people get that far.”  He leans over, nips at the side of Loki’s throat.  Loki tilts his head back, and Tony takes that as a positive sign.

“If I _had_ to say,” Tony goes on, “I’d admit that you’re pretty alright too, I guess.”  He pulls up. Loki’s eyes are looking away though he does seem to have trouble concealing a bit of a grin.  He lets out a breath and Tony thinks there’s more on Loki’s mind than just this.  He’s robbed, looks like something’s been taken from him.  Spent, almost, without the proper release.

They don’t have to talk about it, he decides, and he reaches down between Loki’s thighs to give him that release.

 

18.

It’s several nights before Loki comes back again.  He pops in and drags Tony to the bedroom, and there’s an intimacy that wasn’t there before -- it’s in the way their hands linger together, the way they actually hold eye contact, and the slowness of the sex.  It takes longer for either of them to cum, and they both tremble into sleep afterwards.

Loki is the one who wakes him up.  He rolls on top of Tony, kisses him at the corner of his mouth before he’s even had the chance to open his eyes.

“Wake up,” Loki whispers.  Tony’s hands move to rest on the pillow on either side of his head and he opens his eyes to see Loki, hair fallen all around, curled and tangled and somewhat cute.  He half-smiles against the kiss, groggy and half asleep, and reaches up to push it back behind Loki’s ear.

“Why should I?” he asks in a low mumble, and Loki responds by dropping his weight onto Tony’s chest in its entirety.  The intentional hostility makes Tony’s smile wry and his arms fall out on either side as he lets out a single cough for air.  He strains his voice for dramatic effect when he wheezes out, “Not much of an answer there.”

“You grow lazy, Stark.”  And Tony realizes there, Loki just wants attention.  “You sleep too much,” he says, and Tony brings his hands back in, runs his fingers through Loki’s hair.  Loki closes his eyes in response and folds his hands over Tony’s chest to rest his chin over them.

“Do I?”  Loki’s hair is thick and curly, and he can only push his hands back so far before a snarl has him resting his palms on either side of Loki’s head.  “You’d be the first to say so.  Normally it’s, _‘When’s the last time you slept?’ ‘Are you gonna get some sleep tonight?’_ “ He laughs at himself and Loki’s lips do curve upward; Tony imagines it’s something like a smile, though it looks rather pained.

 

19.

“Do you think you’re sneaky, by the way?” Tony asks. Loki pretends to sleep with his back to Tony, but Tony’s not convinced; Jarvis only woke them both up moments ago. “Saw you lingering round the labs yesterday. Last I knew, stealing food wasn’t part of this arrangement.”

Loki rolls over, places a hand over Tony’s mouth.  “Do not speak,” he says.  “You interrupt the morning’s delicacy with your obnoxious voice.”

Tony nips at the fingers. Loki shakes them off, draws the hand back as he looks over at Tony, lips pursed in a taut frown.  Tony gives him a kiss on the forehead then drags himself out of bed.

“I don’t mind it, you know,” he says as he pulls his shirt on.  “When you’re around.  You’re coming less often now, it makes me crabby.”  He doesn’t say much more at the risk of sounding clingy, but Loki picks up on it either way.

“Yes, well, you are rather needy,” he remarks. There’s pride in it.  The bed is consumed by him now on his back, taking it over in a display as if he thinks himself a work of art. The moment doesn’t pass without Tony seizing it; he pulls his phone up off the dresser and snaps a picture.

“Pardon me, Sir,” says Jarvis, and Tony sets to dressing again at the gentle reminder.  “But Mr. Laufeyson may find it in his best interest to cover the bruise on the side of his neck.”  Tony’s eyes instinctively go to Loki, from the smug look in his narrowed eyes to the big bruise Tony indeed left on him the night before.

“I rather like your computers, Stark,” he comments idly, the slow smirk creeping up completely shameless.

It’s as close to a personal compliment as Tony figures he can get.  He leans over the bed with one hand down for support and bends down to give Loki a kiss on the lips.  “See you tonight?” he asks when he pulls out.

Loki hums in response, a flippant, “No, don’t think so, sorry.”  He pulls himself up and watches Tony wrangle his jeans on.  “Busy. Supervillain plans, can’t break them.”

“Right, Mount Doom and them, got it.”

A silence hangs.  Tony finishes dressing himself unsure of why it feels so thick, and Loki watches with thinly veiled interest.

“I’ll call you,” he says, then quickly adds his provisions: “Should I get the chance, that is.”  Tony raises a brow.  “Given you don’t harass me, I won’t promptly hang up on you.”

“Love you too, snuggle bug,” Tony says as he climbs back into bed, fully dressed.  Maybe a quick round before he goes, a celebration.  It’s not that he _needs_ Loki to call him or text him or any of it, but he’s pleased by regardless it and feels like showing it.

Loki doesn’t hesitate to take advantage.  He immediately snakes his fingers into the hem of Tony’s pants and starts unfastening them without delay. 

“It’s in your best interest to never say any of that again,” he says, and Tony thinks Loki’s eagerness shows that he feels the same.


End file.
